


Be Thou For The People

by Mr Son (MrSon)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Original Work, The Yogscast, Trigun
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Fewer people die, Found Family, Multi, Mutual Pining, OFC protagonist, Original Female Character - Freeform, canon character/OC relationship(s), main canon plot mostly unchanged, more 'plot with smut' than 'smut with plot', oc fic, poly relationship(s), so expect the explicit tag to take a while to earn itself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:40:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26638969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrSon/pseuds/Mr%20Son
Summary: Wynn Fayram had been a State Alchemist for a little over a year when they let the infant pass his exam. Having a literal twelve year old running around with the same credentials as her quite effectively squashed any possible pride she might have once had in her position, leaving her with only the initial stubbornness and desperation that had led her to join up in the first place.OC-based fic.Characters used from Trigun and Yogscast, as Fullmetal Alchemist AUs of themselves.Tags may change as story progresses.
Relationships: Riza/Roy/Wolfwood/Wynn (and all sub ships)
Kudos: 6





	Be Thou For The People

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is focused on non-canon characters. Both OCs, and characters crossed over from other canons. It also features OC/canon character romance. If these things are not to your interests, this content will likely not satisfy you, and I would advise seeking entertainment elsewhere.
> 
> Wynn Fayram is the same character as Wynn Dawnstrider from my fic [Twilight Shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10561428/chapters/23332196).  
> Writing AUs of your own characters for the win.
> 
> Character physical descriptions in the end of chapter notes, in case the details in the fic aren't enough.
> 
> A great amount of appreciation to my prereaders for assisting with this. :3  
> Mary, my best friend and co-conspirator for this 'verse.  
> My mother, who doesn't know any of the fandoms but enjoys the characters anyway.  
> Ryan, from the Discord server for [snipers solve 99% of all problems](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20644262/chapters/49023794), a very fun and sassy FMA/HP crossover I've been enjoying.
> 
> I did not follow all of their advice, so please do not blame them for any mistakes or things that seem like mistakes.
> 
> Please keep all critique polite and kind. If you believe that "critique " is mutually exclusive with "polite and kind", I do not wish to hear from you.

"Lead, kindly Light, lead thou me on; The night is dark, and I am far from home."  
\-- William Wynn Westcott, [Rosicrucian Thoughts on the Ever-Burning Lamps of the Ancients](http://www.levity.com/alchemy/westcott.html).

=== === ===

"Captain Withers!" Wynn flung her hand high into the air and waved. "Order some for me, too!"

Captain Jans Withers, in the middle of accepting his bramborák from the food cart vendor, wilted as she strode towards him. "Major Fayram." he greeted her curtly, trying to escape before... nope, the vendor had that "two sales for one customer" smile and was scooping another stack into a separate bag. Withers sighed and paid for both orders, and passed the second bag to the major. "You'd think a state alchemist could afford her own lunch."

"Heh, you'd think that but it's still another month until I get the next year's grant money so I have to stretch every cenz I have. Oh, these are extra crispy! Perfect!"

Withers sighed as he watched the major stride away with another 650 cenz out of his pocket. "I have a budget too, you know..." he grumbled to the pavement, then buried his sorrows in fried potato. They really were nice and crisp.

\--- --- ---

Wynn shoved the last bramborák into her mouth as she stepped into the empty office they'd assigned her for the few days she was in Central to deliver her reports and get approval for next year.

She suspected she was just going to get the same dismissive rubber stamp she got last time. "Yeah yeah whatever, go fuck in the wheat fields or whatever you're wasting your time with. Not like you're a _real_ alchemist." "Hey how about you take that stamp and shove it in your ear? I bet you couldn't tell real alchemy work from a stage magician. Who do you think is the reason barley prices dropped last winter? That's right, me and my 'not real alchemy', so give me my grant and go lick the brass' balls some more."

Wynn sighed, dropping the puppets she was making with her hands. Another lost day sitting around this empty office because she didn't know when they'd call on her to justify her license for the year. It was almost spring! She was wasting valuable planting and growing time here! All her seedlings would be dying on her if Zoey wasn't a beautiful, wonderful, gracious friend. A friend who would agree to things like watching over Wynn's current crossbreeds and engineered cereal crop test subjects for half the salary Wynn would have had to pay an actual employee. All while Wynn was forced to kowtow to the higher-ups for the right to prove why _feeding people_ was a good idea.

A burst of applause behind her had Wynn spinning towards the door. She hadn't heard anyone open the door again. How had they gotten there?

A man was sitting at one of the desks, in the corner she hadn't even glanced at on her way in. Young, with black hair and light brown skin, clean shaven, and wearing a black version of the uniform which wasn't quite like what the Military Police wore. He had no rank insignia, only the number 318 stitched neatly in its place.

He was watching her with a predatory smile, which slid off his face to be replaced with someone more concerned. "Hey, no need to be so tense! I just thought your little show was kind of cute!"

"My show?" Oh, the hand puppet argument. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you in my office? Are you the designated bootlicker they sent to drag me up before the interrogation squad?"

He laughed at her, which almost made her bristle, but... no, it was an honest laugh, not at her expense. And it was followed with, "Shit, no! I'm the new bodyguard."

"Bodyguard." She could have ironed her uniform under the flatness of her voice.

"Yeah, something about that serial killer who's been going around. The guy who's targeting state alchemists. Oh but hey, I should introduce myself! Name's Wolfwood. Nicholas D. Wolfwood. Nice to meet you." He stuck his hand out at her, with a smile that was probably _trying_ to be friendly.

She shook it.

"Major Wynn Fayram, State Alchemist." she introduced herself. "I didn't request a bodyguard."

He shrugged. "I don't know why I was sent, just that I was. So... What's the plan for today?" The naive... what rank was he supposed to be? Was he Military Police? Something else? What did the number mean? He looked honestly excited, and she couldn't imagine why, unless whoever had sent him explained _not a single damn thing_ about her current assignment.

"Nothing." she told him sourly, "My current job is to sit around on my hands waiting for the brass to light the special signal that means I'm allowed to go continue my _actual_ work." He looked a bit confused, so she explained, "I'm getting my recert done and they're going over my yearly report. I don't know when they'll call me up to tell me why I've only just barely scraped by yet again and they expect me to do something more spectacular next year. Like what do they want from me? I got a strain of rice you can grow in Senna. _Rice in Senna_ and that's not good enough for them! What do they think their soldiers march on, gunpowder and barking drill sergeants?"

Wolfwood's eyes glittered with humor. "I'm pretty sure that's what everyone thinks the army marches on."

"Well it doesn't." Wynn slammed a fist down on the nearest desk. Wolfwood didn't even flinch, still grinning at her. "It marches on _full bellies_. And that's my damn job."

"So..." Wolfwood leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. "Are you saying you're a chef alchemist?"

Wynn snorted with amusement. "What? No, you can't cook with alchemy. Wait..." She raised her hands up, pressing her palms together and feeling the array take shape in her mind. Excite the atoms, rearrange the molecules... She pulled her hands apart and let the mental array fade away unpowered. "Huh. I think you could cook with alchemy, actually. I don't think I want to try it, but..." She shrugged. "I work with crops and farmland. I mentioned the rice I made for Senna?"

"Yeah? Is that special?"

He sounded genuinely curious, so Wynn tried not to take it personally. Damn city boy with no idea how food got to his plate...

"Senna's got really crap soil for rice. It doesn't hold water well, it has the wrong mineral balance, and it's full of rocks to boot. It's just shit. Mostly they let wildgrass grow and herd goats and stuff on it. It's not a bad use of the land but if you could get a good 4-year crop rotation cycle going... two years of rice, a year of lying fallow, a year of herding... You could build the soil up really rich and thick. It would work with other crops too, better even, but rice is the one we're struggling with establishing right now. Most of our rice gets imported from Xing and what with the route choices being through either Aerugo, or that fuck-awful desert, you can imagine the shipping fees."

Wolfwood had the politely interested look of someone who understood about half of what she was talking about. Wynn sighed. Damn city boys who've never come face to face with a goat in their lives. "It's special and I should win a fucking _award_ for it and not sit around trying to justify spending fifty thousand cenz on manure to some brasshole who can't tell rice from sand."

"Isn't rice way bigger than sand?"

"Congratulations, you're smarter than half our command structure."

There was that laugh again. Louder this time, almost braying. His eyes squinted half-shut in a way that made him look kind of like an anti-Xing caricature. Like that graffiti she'd seen behind the awful bar she'd gone to a couple nights ago just to have something to do with herself. Oh man, Alphys had given her an earful about her hangover the next morning...

"Hey, wanna go get something to drink in a bit? I'm honestly bored, so maybe we can find something more fun than watching the flow of paperwork pass us by?" Wynn asked.

A sharp knock on the door cut off whatever answer Wolfwood was about to give, and Wynn snapped to attention as fucking _Führer King Bradley_ walked into the room, a set of guards trailing behind him like exceedingly grumpy doberman pups. Since when did some two-cenz 'hayseed alchemist' from the ass end of West merit a visit from the actual goddamn Führer?

"At ease." He smiled, voice friendly, and casual as only someone with both the power and legal right to reduce you to a bloody smear on the ground at a moment's notice could be. "Major Wynn Fayram, correct?"

"Yes, sir!" Wynn relaxed her stance only because he'd ordered her. This was the man who commanded their entire country and... here he was. Right in front of her. Up close for the first time. She could take three steps forward and _touch_ him... If she was into the idea of dying swiftly.

It would be really nice to have been able to stay at attention and keep pretending to be a good little doggy for her master. Better than having to figure out how to be a real person in front of, and she couldn't stress this enough, _the goddamn Führer_.

Wolfwood hadn't even taken his feet off the desk he was sitting at, the bastard. The guards didn't seem to notice him back behind the door. He had to have picked that corner to sit in on purpose. Wynn kind of wanted to strangle him for escaping the Führer's scrutiny.

"The Reaping Alchemist?" The Führer was apparently into asking rhetorical questions. Wynn snapped out another "yes, sir!" anyway, as he pulled out a piece of paper and- oh. It was her assessment form. He made a show of looking it over even though it was obvious he had to have already seen it, if he was carrying it around. "It seems you've been performing adequately this year. Rice in Senna, was it?"

Wynn wasn't going to stop 'yes sir'ing the Führer yet. One side of his smile twitched upward a bit at her reply, and he continued, "You certainly seem to be hardworking enough to have earned your place again for next year. I expect to see you improve from here. Such dutiful labour benefits the whole country."

"Yes, sir." Now that was a 'yes sir' Wynn could smile for, and also, "Thank you!"

He handed her the form, and she held her smile even at the spike of queasiness she got seeing the Führer's personal stamp on the page. The actual ruler of the whole damn country had his eye on her research. Intimidating.

"Now, I'd best be off before the rest of my work catches up with me. I hope the both of you have a fine day." Führer Bradley gave her a nod, turned around, and vanished back out the door. Wynn was left clutching tightly at her assessment form, feeling a bit like she'd had _two_ assessments just now.

After the guards trailed out the door, Wolfwood slowly lowered his feet off the desk and stood, padding softly over to her as if he wasn't wearing the same heavy tread uniform boots as her. His voice was hushed as he said, "Geez, that was the Führer, was he?"

They both stared at the door for a few silent moments.

Wolfwood was the first to speak. "Did he just run a petty errand in order to skive off his normal duties?"

"I... think so?" Wynn looked down at her form and read it more closely. The expected handful of signatures and stamps and details supposed to be written by the 'assessing officer' were missing. But there was the Führer's stamp, askew in the box with the sort of sloppiness that only the highest ranks could get away with. "I guess I'm free now?"

Wolfwood considered the door again, then turned back to her with a toothy grin and asked, "You were saying something about getting a drink?"

\--- --- ---

The Reaping Alchemist had not been at all what Wolfwood had expected. He'd known it was a woman, so that at least hadn't been a surprise. Her being almost as tall as him fit the intimidating figure that had started forming in his mind's eye. But she was so... light. Pale and blond and with a friendly, open smile. Not dreary or grim at all. And nothing like the cold disdain he was used to.

How did a sassy gardener get a title like "Reaping" pasted onto her name? Command sure had a weird sense of humor.

"So," Major Fayram drawled -- in that adorable accent they got around the western border where Creta met Drachma -- as the two of them headed down the steps out of Central command and past the gate check, "know a good bar we can try?"

Wolfwood turned to look at her after flashing the guard his ID, tucking it back into his pocket and leaving his hands there, comfortably within range of his gun and belt knife. "What, you don't? I thought you had somewhere in mind?"

"Nah. I only know a couple places around here." She gestured vaguely off into the city. "I spend most of my time out west. At least, when Headquarters is letting me actually do my damn job. I figure you'd know the local hot spots better."

"A local hot spot sounds a bit busy to just hang out and relax in." Wolfwood pointed out. He was already looking forward to getting to know this lady, and it would be hard to do that in some packed bar with deafening levels of chatter in the background.

"You seem like a woman of refined taste." he said, having had a lot of practice saying damned lies with a straight face. She gave the comment the disparaging snort it deserved, and he continued, "I think I know just the place to go. It's one of my favorite bars when I need a quiet night to myself."

"If you want to keep it to yourself, you'd be better off not showing it to me."

"Well, I certainly don't want you to come away from my home city with a bad impression now, do I?"

She laughed, loud and braying. A real country girl laugh, the kind that was used to having acres and acres of empty fields to spread out across. "Well, it's far too late for that. But go ahead, show me this favorite bar of yours." she said, with a 'lead on, sir' wave.

"Come on, this way." Wolfwood crossed the street, blithely passing in front of a car that had stopped a moment for the driver to adjust his glasses, and led Major Fayram off through the afternoon crowds.

\--- --- ---

Despite claiming to not spend much time in Central, Major Fayram at least seemed to understand how to walk in a city. She easily dodged around the busy sidewalk behind him as he led her further and further from Central HQ. It was a pretty long walk and he was honestly a bit surprised she hadn't complained about going on foot instead of hailing a car. But whenever he looked over at her, she didn't really look worn out yet, with eyes curious and unbothered by the exercise.

The bar itself was a sad looking thing from the outside. Over the door hung a wooden sign, half its paint peeled off. The sign declared, with what had probably once been pride, that the bar's name was "Grand Wormwood". But the implication that it was an absinthe bar had clearly never drawn the rush of thrill-seeking customers the owner had hoped for. Wolfwood pushed his way in and held the door for Major Fayram to follow.

Inside, the small bar was still bright with the afternoon sun shining through the windows, only the back half dim with shadows and weak lights. It was clean though, which bumped its score pretty high up the rankings of his favorite bars list. Bernadette always kept things as pristine as she could manage, given the normal rigours of daily use by the continual passage of drunks in and out.

Speaking of, Wolfwood recognized most of the day drinkers in today. Roberts and Jayden over in the corner by the restroom, continuing to pretend they weren't a couple, despite everyone including their own wives rolling their eyes at how obvious it was. Flanders still mourning a son two years gone in whichever damned border conflict had been so important at the time. Sarah, who would probably be unconscious before sunset and once again left in a booth with a coat draped over her. At least Bernadette kept her safe while she was passed out.

Wolfwood grinned as he saw Bernadette's hulking form bent down behind the bar counting bottles. Her short brown hair just sticking up over the edge of the counter like the bar itself was wearing a wig. She straightened up as the door's bell jingled and waved him over. "Nick! You idiot! I said you needed to come back next week and tell me how things went and that was over a month ago!"

Wolfwood held up his hands defensively. "Sorry, sorry! You know what my last boss was like. But I'm free now, so I rushed right over to see you. Hey, though, you gotta meet the new boss." He reached over and slung an arm over Wynn's shoulders, dragging her forward. Hoo, but she had some meat on her. And she planted her feet to resist, so he really had to pull. He got her up to the bar, let go, and backed away a few steps.

The glare on her face promised a lot of pain if he tried that again so he immediately swore to himself never to make a second attempt, chastising himself for even trying in the first place. Too familiar too fast, that was always his problem.

"They reassigned you?" Bernadette asked, peering down at Fayram. "To this girl? Thank goodness. I thought you were bringing a girlfriend! I'm proud of my bar but no poor girl deserves to be taken to a bar on the first date."

Wolfwood took a moment to check Fayram's reaction before responding. She had tucked her hands into her pockets as casual as Wolfwood himself, and she was hovering off at a distance, like she didn't want to associate with them even though she seemed amused- Oh. Wait, no. Country girl from out West, right? That was probably just normal personal space for someone out there. Wasn't really used to being close to people, right? Wolfwood returned his attention to Bernadette to quip, "I would never! You're practically family! You don't bring a girl to meet family until it's serious!"

Bernadette laughed, then flashed her best 'skin you down to the bone and make you thank her for it' grin. "Aw, you're super sweet, Nick. But don't think honeying me up is going to reduce your tab any."

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and pulled his wallet out. "Fine, fine. Here, I'll give you ten thousand now and I'll pay for tonight's drinks out of pocket, okay? I can't cover much more than that until payday."

"That'll do, soldier boy." Bernadette pocketed the cash and tilted her chin towards the booths on the back wall. "Shouldn't get too crowded today. You two ought to have enough privacy to talk about whatever bureaucratic nonsense you need to without anyone else listening in on the classified stuff. I'll bring by your usual in a few."

Bernadette then turned to Fayram. Who, to her credit, did not seem at all intimidated by the brick house of a woman sizing her up. "What'll you have, then?"

Fayram shrugged, small and quick with one shoulder. "If you have a West style cider, I'll take that. If not, anything made mostly of apples should do."

Bernadette made a show of turning to scan the wall of bottles behind her, where the stock was displayed. "I have a honey-apple mead or a South style cider. Sorry, nothing from West right now."

Fayram gave a deeply theatrical heaving sigh. "I'll take the South cider. At least they have a passing idea of how to treat an apple. Not like that stuff they sell out of Fisk that can strip paint."

"Sure, I'll bring that over in a few." Bernadette crouched back down behind the bar again and resumed counting bottles.

Wolfwood grinned, nodded to nothing in particular, and turned to Fayram. "Right this way, then."

After settling into the booth, Wolfwood resisted the urge to slouch down and prop his feet up on the opposite seat next to Fayram. He was supposed to be bodyguarding her and he had to be on guard in case of... honestly Wolfwood had no idea. Some large person, probably a guy, with a big scar on his face? That was about all the description Wolfwood had. Nearly useless, honestly. The number of folks in this country with scars on their faces... given all the wars and riots and other shit that happened even just recently? Might as well ask him to be on the look out for orphans, or amputees.

Ah, yes. Amputees...

Fayram had her hands pressed in front of her like she was praying again, eyes unfocused and slightly crossed. The shine of her metal left hand was a reminder that he really didn't have to look far for people who'd been hurt by the way things were, even if he wasn't counting himself. And he always made sure to. If he didn't count himself, how many others was he discounting that were just like him? For their sake, he had to remember his own pain.

"You often pray before a night of drinking?" Wolfwood asked, mostly just to break the quiet. Though, he _was_ curious which god she might follow. Fayram lowered her hands and blinked at him, like she'd forgotten he was there.

"What? No, I don't have anything I would pray to. I was just thinking." She ran her right hand over the top of the polished wood table. "This is pretty high-quality wood for a place like this. Ah, not to insult your taste in bars? Or the owner?" She tilted her head at him, eyes narrowed like she really _wanted_ to insult his taste in bars but was trying to be polite.

Wolfwood decided to spare her the conflict and laughed. "Yeah it's not exactly high-class, I know. But now that Bernadette's in charge she's putting the money into the important stuff. Her old man tried to make it big through _marketing_ , can you believe it?"

Fayram snorted. "What, like how the military uses posters to try and recruit people? Don't knock it, marketing works on some people. Eager young idiots looking for glory and wanting to serve their country eat that shit up."

Wolfwood wondered, sometimes, if those posters would have worked on him. In a different lifetime. One where he'd gotten the chance to grow up normally. "Well, it didn't work for this place."

"So," Fayram changed the subject, "how long have you been assigned to me for, anyway?"

That was a good question that Wolfwood had no answer to. 'Indefinite' was the word of the day. He shrugged, tilting his head back to gaze heavenward. "No idea. Until they catch this serial killer guy, I guess?" He heard Flanders make a startled sound. Now anyone within earshot was going to be listening in, which... okay he probably was supposed to have better operational security than that but fuck it. People deserved to know when there was a serial killer on the streets, even if this one didn't seem a threat to anyone who wasn't working for the military or getting in his way.

Wolfwood continued, "Or kill him? Or chase him up into Drachma? I dunno, but as long as he's targeting State Alchemists, you guys get to be paired up with your own personal meat shield buddies. And I'm yours."

Fayram grimaced. Which honestly Wolfwood sympathized with. She didn't need some stranger dogging her heels all day he was sure. But a job was a job, and honestly she was already proving to be a way better boss than Michael even if she spent the rest of the op ignoring him completely. Actually, ignoring him completely would have been a step up all on its own...

Wolfwood caught himself starting to put his feet up again and straightened in his seat. Time to throw out a test. "So, what kind of accommodations should I be expecting tonight?"

"Excuse me?" Fayram squinted dubiously at him. "You're expecting me to put you up for the night?"

"Well," Wolfwood dragged out the vowel like he was trying to wring it dry, "I'm supposed to stay with you 'at all times' to keep you safe, so I want to know if I'll be sleeping on a floor again or what."

She didn't take the bait of 'again', her eyes drifting off to the side in thought for a moment before snapping back to him and giving him a thorough inspection. "You want me to invite a strange man into my apartment for the night?"

Wolfwood grinned. Yeah, that was a bold ask, wasn't it? But she was actually thinking about it, and not in the naively trusting sort of way. Damn, but she kept growing on him. Was she that fun, or was it because his standards were low? He... wasn't sure he actually wanted to know the answer... Though, he did want to know the answer to one thing.

"You have an apartment in town? I thought you lived out West? Seems expensive to keep an apartment you're not in most of the year." Wolfwood knew State Alchemists made some pretty good money through their research grants. And there didn't seem to be a ton of oversight in where that money went, at least judging by how little anyone questioned Michael's spending habits. So he guessed a seldom-used cheap apartment probably didn't even register to the bean counters.

Fayram scowled, shaking her head. "No, I'm staying with-" She paused, giving him another evaluating look. "I stay with my sister when I'm in town. She's doing her studies here."

Wolfwood had to grin at that. It was the first thing she'd done that was similar to Michael. If she was going to have any trait of his, Wolfwood approved that it was protectiveness of her family. "Gotta ask her first, right? I understand. Bernadette'll probably let you use the phone in back if you like."

A subtle tension eased out of Fayram's shoulders, and Wolfwood mentally carved another notch in his charm score tally. Convince a lady he wasn't a creep with just two sentences. She probably was going to make the call anyway though. Only polite not to spring strange men on the family, right? Country folk were supposed to be all about manners. Or was it casual disregard of manners in a charming, folksy sorta way? Eh, he probably shouldn't be relying on stereotypes to guess what she was going to do.

Just as Fayram was opening her mouth to reply, Bernadette appeared, looming over the table. "Here's your drinks!" She set the tray down precisely, not spilling a drop from either well-filled glass. Wolfwood immediately reached for the smaller of the two -- his whiskey -- and was taking a sip before Fayram was done blinking up at Bernadette, who was saying, "And yeah, you can use the phone if you like. Gotta justify paying for the thing, right? Have it be good for something other than getting nagged by Papa about how business is going."

"I might take you up on that. Thanks." Fayram replied with a warm smile, warmer than she'd given Wolfwood so far. He grinned into his glass. He should have guessed ahead of time that a couple of tough women like these two would get on well. They'd probably form some kind of secret ladies club while his back was turned.

Wolfwood took another sip of whiskey, watching Fayram do the same with her cider. She grimaced down at it and declared, "I guess this'll do."

He rolled her reaction to his invasion of her life over in his head. She was suspicious, yet open to the possibility. Didn't trust him, but hadn't rejected him yet. And she had yet to show any signs of actually being _angry_ at him about any of it. It... might have been a bit much to invite himself to her place as a test.

"Hey." He set his glass down, restraining his expression to something more serious, and leaned in towards her. "If you're really not comfortable with me staying overnight... I'm a stranger, I understand. I really do have to keep an eye on you at all times, but I think our COs will understand if I just see you home tonight and pick you up in the morning. What time do you need me to come by?"

Fayram relaxed further. She took another, slower sip of her cider as a clear bid to buy time to think. She reached up and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "That's probably better, yeah." She frowned at him, then her face bloomed into a sharp grin as she added, "And it means you won't have to sleep on our floor tonight."

Wolfwood grinned back, sinking back into the booth seat again and taking another sip of his drink. "Really, the floor might be a step up from taking a spare bunk in the barracks, but it's your call." He peered down into the amber shadows of his glass. He wasn't entirely joking. At least if he was at her place he was busy working, and not free to get called on for anything. Well. It was just one night. From how she'd been talking at headquarters, she was probably eager to hop on a train out west first thing tomorrow. He was looking forward to it.

"I guess since I'm done with my paperwork, you don't have to get up early for me. Come by around ten, maybe?" She ran a finger around the edge of her glass, like a bored kid waiting for their mom to finish eating. "They really expect you to follow me all the way home? This isn't just while I'm in Central?"

"As long as this guy is active, I'm supposed to be looking out for you." Wolfwood confirmed. "Shadow your every move and all that."

Fayram grimaced, taking a few gulps of her cider. Then turned a frown at Wolfwood. "Hey, you mind dogs? I have a dog at home."

Wolfwood paused, glass to his face, whiskey kissing his lips. Slowly, he finished his sip before grinning at her a bit sheepishly. "I love dogs, but they don't always like me back. I hope yours is friendly?"

"The friendliest." She squinted at him a few moments longer, seeming to consider something, then tilted her glass and chugged down the rest of her cider.

Before she'd even set the glass back down, Bernadette was at her elbow. "Need a refill?"

Fayram slowly pushed the glass over towards her. "Nah, I gotta be heading out. I didn't tell my sis I was gonna be out today, and if I'm not cooking dinner when she gets home she'll be worried. And if I'm drunk when she gets home she'll be _mad_."

Bernadette pouted a little, for the show of it, and took Fayram's glass. And Wolfwood's, after he hastily drained it and passed it over. "I'll be heading out with her. Hope you have a quiet night."

"Hopefully not too quiet!" Bernadette laughed. "I need to make money, after all." She headed off to wash their glasses, and Fayram practically leapt out of her seat and stepped into a fairly open section of floorspace, stretching her arms up over her head and then rolling her shoulders.

She wiggled the fingers of her automail with a frown, then turned to address Wolfwood. "I guess I gotta show you where to show me home to?" Fayram gave Wolfwood an amused smile, and it took him a moment to find the joke in her words.

He nodded, adjusting the holster at his hip so it wasn't poking him uncomfortably, slipped Bernadette a fistful of cenz, then followed Wynn out into the fading evening light.

\--- --- ---

It was a fairly peaceful evening's walk through the city. Still humid from the rain that morning, with tiny fading puddles where the water had gotten a chance to pool. Wynn kicked at one of them, splashing into a bush someone had planted outside their shop. The orange sunset light playfully danced in the droplets of water. All the vibrancy of autumn caught for a few seconds in an idle kick.

They didn't really talk much during the walk. Wynn gave directions as they approached key turns, and Wolfwood occasionally gestured to a storefront they passed to drop some fact or another about it. This one has great stock, that one will always remember your usual, this owner is a bit greedy but you can haggle if you're stubborn.

Wynn soaked up the information, and imagined doing the same for him when she took him home. Teaching him about the book lender who would swear up and down that your deadline was tomorrow, if you looked like you felt bad about returning something late. About the baker who always slipped an apple fritter into any large order that didn't already have one, because everything's better with an apple fritter. About mean old Gertrude, who'd accuse him of being a Cretan spy after one glance at the shape of his nose.

It would be an equal trade. And more than that, it would be fun.

Almost too soon Wynn was standing in the hallway with Wolfwood, outside the door to her sister's apartment. "So..." She placed her hand on the knob, not turning it. "Tomorrow at ten?"

"Yeah." Wolfwood took a step back from her. From the door. Put his hands in his pockets and watched her with narrowed eyes and a feline smile. "I'd get packing but I don't really have anything to pack. So..." He reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. "I'm assuming we're taking the train tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Wynn started turning the knob, shivering a bit at the creak of the hinges as she slowly pushed the door open. "Probably early afternoon because I do have a few things to pack."

"Right, right." Wolfwood took his hand out of his pocket and made a gesture as if he'd thought better of trying to shake her hand a bit too late to pretend he hadn't wanted to. "Good night, then."

"Good night, Wolfwood." Wynn stepped backwards into the open door and watched him turn around and start walking off as she closed it. After a moment's thought, she slid the chain latch into place. It wasn't a real security measure, and she didn't think she needed it against him, but... Any little thing to make her feel less tense right now.

Not that she was tense out of fear...

Wynn turned and poked her head into the living room. Sure enough, Alphys was there, loose blond hair hanging down and brushing the surface of the coffee table that she was bent over. She was flipping through some medical reference book and consulting it against charts and notes she had spread across the whole surface.

"Tough day at work?" Wynn asked, stepping into the room.

"Wynn?" Alphys looked up, lifting a hand to shove her hair behind her ears. "Is that a guy waiting at the door for you? Should I order food tonight?"

Wynn walked over and dropped down onto the couch next to her sister, leaning against her side. Alphys gave a puzzled little hum, but wrapped an arm up over Wynn's shoulders and pulled her in tight. "Something wrong? Should I go chase him away?"

Wynn shook her head, face buried in soft golden hair. "Nah. It's fine. He's already left. He's not a date. You know the rumors about those couple of alchemists who died?"

Alphys stiffened against her. "Yes. Sis... who was that guy at the door?"

"New bodyguard." Wynn wiggled out of Alphys' hold and lay down on the couch, legs dangling off the arm rest, head in her sister's lap. "Apparently there's a serial killer targeting State Alchemists so they thought I should have some extra protection."

Alphys reached down to brush loose strands of hair way from Wynn's face. "Wynn... are you sure you want to keep being a state alchemist? I know you want the money but-"

"We _need_ the money!" Wynn interrupted, "You're still paying off your dues to the hospital and your medical school, and I can't support everyone back home with a normal job."

"It's so dangerous, though." Alpyhs replied, as she scooped up some of her notes and started tucking them away. Wynn caught a passing glimpse of an x-ray of a fractured thighbone with positive Throckmorton sign. She sighed at the way medical information seemed to sneak into her life like weeds, just from spending time with her sister. "I was already worried they would find a new war worth calling you in for... And now there's a serial killer?"

"Yeah, which is why the bodyguard. Look, I'm probably fine. I'm some nobody from out in the scrubby border of West. Just a no-name fertilizer girl, or whatever the gossip mill is calling me today, right? Who's going to bother to chase me down? And now they've given me a guard dog to keep on heel until all this is over with. I'll be fine. Besides, the deaths have been out in East. And I'm going home tomorrow, so he won't even be anywhere near me."

Alphys sighed and gave Wynn a brief pet on the forehead -- her strokes soft and easing some of the tightness in Wynn's soul. "You got your approval, finally?"

"Oh, yeah. It was weird 'cause I got back to the office after lunch, right? And when I got in there was this weird guy sitting there in the corner?"

Wynn proceeded to walk Alphys through her day, from meeting Wolfwood, to quivering in the presence of the Führer, to hanging out at a bar chatting. And the cool bartender. "I think you'd like her. Maybe not your type for like, romance? I know you're not super into the towering strongwoman type, but you'd probably be decent friends?" To the slightly awkward goodbye as Wolfwood left her at the apartment.

"I dunno..." Alphys said, flipping idly through her reference book without really reading any of it. "He sounds like a bit of a weirdo?"

Wynn scoffed. "Come on, _we're_ weirdos. He seems fairly harmless to me. And if he tries anything I can wrap him up in the local construction materials and call for backup. Trust me on this one?"

"I trust you a lot, sis." Alphys closed her book, shoving it into her work bag with the papers, and sat up, dumping Wynn onto the couch alone. "Even though you let me down on dinner tonight."

"Oh no! I am the worst sister!" Wynn exclaimed dramatically, rolling off the couch onto the floor. And, as Alphys started to walk away, Wynn grabbed at the hem of her skirt and held on tight enough that Alphys dragged her a couple feet across the polished wood. "Please, don't leave me! Just give me thirty minutes to make it up to you!"

Alphys took another step, turning towards the phone. "I don't know... I could just call in something. It's much more reliable than sisters, it seems like."

"Forgive me! I won't ever be late again for the whole rest of this visit!" Wynn let go of Alphys' skirt and rolled over, curling her hands like paws and pretending to beg. "Let me be a good girl who makes my sister happy!"

Alphys laughed, then reached down to pull Wynn up to her feet. "Fine, fine. Let's make dinner together tonight. If you're going home tomorrow we should do something nice, so maybe we could take that leftover chicken and do that creamy chicken noodle sauce thing you were experimenting with yesterday?"

"Sounds like a plan! I'll go get washed up."

=== === ===

**Author's Note:**

>  **Descriptions** :
> 
> Wynn Fayram:  
> Start with Ed Elric. Make him around 5'9" ish. Tuck his bangs back so they're not flopped over his face. Turn his eyes green. Broaden his shoulders. Give him boobs. There, that's good enough.
> 
> Alphys Fayram:  
> Similar to Wynn but a little bit smaller in all dimensions. Lighter, less saturated, longer blond hair. Gold eyes.
> 
> Nicholas D. Wolfwood:  
> The guy from the Trigun manga except he's in a black Amestrian military uniform.  
> [Image](https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/trigun/images/d/d1/Nicholas_D_Wolfwood.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/435?cb=20141112054906) from [Trigun wiki](https://trigun.fandom.com/wiki/Nicholas_D._Wolfwood) (wiki link contains spoilers for Trigun).


End file.
